


Allegiance

by soracia



Category: Lord of the Rings (2001 2002 2003)
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Gen, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-12-16
Updated: 2003-12-16
Packaged: 2017-10-23 20:39:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/254762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soracia/pseuds/soracia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Boromir POV ficlet -Non-slash- Mainly movieverse, based on the end of FOTR. Allegiance to the king - something to live for...or die for...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Allegiance

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** Not mine. Not even a little bit. Characters all belong to JRRT, who is a damn genius and deserves the credit. Situations and quotes from the movie, copyright New Line Cinema, and PJ-who doesn't deserve the credit but is getting it anyway, for legal reasons. Internal monologue of Boromir, obviously, is mine.
> 
>  _AN: Kinda dark, maybe a bit murky; I find Boromir to be an extremely ambiguous character. Based mostly on the movie, although my impressions of Boromir are heavily influenced by the book. I'm not actually that happy with the way this turned out, it feels jankety...but what the hell, maybe someone will like it.  
> _

_"You owe him your allegiance."_

It had stung, that, like a slap in the face.

 _What the hell are you saying, Elf?_ he had wanted to spit, with all the force of his blunted anger and confusion. But he had held his tongue, knowing somehow that the Elf was right. Not liking it any better, but knowing there was no argument which he could offer.

 _"Gondor has no King. Gondor needs no King."_

His protests were hollow—-he knew it, and so did they; but they were merciful, allowing him to soothe his injured pride without further comment. Boromir had resumed his seat and brooded; he couldn't believe how foolish, how naive they were all being about this. That...thing. Isildur's Bane.

They wanted to take it right into the heart of the Dark Lord's land and hand it over, and all would be lost to the Shadow. That was what it would amount to. It was mad to think they could destroy it, and sheer idiocy not to use such a powerful force for good when it had fallen into their hands.

Boromir could not believe such stubborn foolishness, and finally he had said so. That situation had deteriorated rapidly, but it seemed he was completely in the minority with his opinion.

Then the hobbit-lad, the halfling, had come forward, the Fellowship had begun to form-—and finally he added his assent to the madness they had planned.

 _"If this is indeed the will of the Council, Gondor will see it done."_

Complete madness. But if he did not go with them, they would only have chosen another, and he would have no other chance to sway them when their ways had parted.

So now he found himself here, in the depths of the strange realm known as Lothlorien, Lorien of the Blossoms, ruled by the witch queen. The uncanny elven Lady, Galadriel. She made his bones turn to ice, and then liquefy, with just a glance. She spoke into his mind, confirming his worst fears-and yet speaking hope, where he could see none.

And wonder of wonders, the King had seen his troubled look, and come to speak with him.

The King who was always at a distance, always seemed to be on the other side. The King who had never understood him.

Yet now he felt almost a kinship with him, a connection. Aragorn seemed to understand what he was trying to say, and more, what he did not say.

He too loved the White City, that much was clear in his eyes. His presence was soothing, the stillness he wore like a cloak about him drew even the most troubled heart into a place of quiet and of peace. That quiet strength encouraged and inspired those who followed him, this Man who was Isildur's Heir.

The Heir who bore the sword reforged from the Blade that was Broken. Already he was the King, though not yet fully revealed, one could see that he was no ordinary man.

Boromir knew that he was truly the King, that the Elf at the Council had been right in saying he was the rightful King of Gondor. The King he had grudgingly come to respect, even admire, in the course of their journey to this place.

Aragorn, son of Arathorn, a Man among Men indeed. Who could help but admire him, the strength and grace with which he carried himself, the courage and nobility which shone from his spirit, the fervent dedication to his cause.

All he can do is try his best to give whatever the King may need of him. Try to be a strong warrior and a faithful captain, expecting nothing more than to be allowed to serve. Expecting no more than a few kind words or a brief hand of friendship, no more than a little shared laughter now and then. Expecting that he will not be taken into the King's confidence, spoken with heart to heart.

And why should he, when he has shown how little he knows of the burdens of the King? When he has been rude and proud and spoken harshly of the course they have chosen to follow, the course the King believes that he must take to defeat the Shadow.

 _I have been not only proud and arrogant, but also blind and foolish—-forgive me, Lord. I would have made amends. Whatever you asked of me, I would do, and glad to be of service._

To fight for him, in this hopeless war; for he brings hope, he is the hope. To grant him any wish or request that is in his power. To love and serve and watch as _he_ becomes the ruler of the Stone Land and of all Men--

To die for, if need be...yes, perhaps that would be best...

 _"I would have followed you, my brother. My captain. My King..."_

 _~metta~_


End file.
